I.n.c.i.n.e.r.a.t.o.r.
by Chibi Chiriko
Summary: A dark introspective piece on Shishio... spoilers for the concluding battle of the Kyoto Saga


DISCLAIMERS: Rurouni Kenshin (c) Nobuhiro Watsuki, Jump  
Comics, Shueisha, Fuji TV and Sony Entertainment. All  
copyrighted characters are used without permission from  
the owners; this is a nonprofit work of fanfiction written  
only for online entertainment purposes. No copyright   
infringement intended.  
  
This is for Selene-chan, who challenged me into   
writing this. I hope this little handicraft of mine  
meets the requirements you stated. ^^;  
  
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I.N.C.I.N.E.R.A.T.O.R.  
by Chibi Chiriko-chan   
  
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I die before the dawn breaks over my native land. Welcome  
it, you who will see... and remember those who have fallen  
in the night.  
-Elias  
from "Noli Me Tangere" (Touch Me Not/The Social Cancer)  
by Dr Jose Rizal  
  
  
  
Aloof. Alone. And unknowingly abandoned.   
  
He stands, a formidable tower against the dead of night,   
his posture erect in the image of confidence, his chin   
jutted out in fearsome defiance. The naked fang of a   
blade in his right hand has long dulled, rusty with the  
irremovable stains of dead blood and human flesh that  
has clung to the steely edge which as, with one powerful,  
unforgiving stroke, wiped out existence after existence  
without single thought.   
  
His hair flaps in the mourning breeze of the night,   
swinging to and fro with agonizing slowness, a pendulum  
that tantalizingly rocks from side to side, counting   
the moments before another fresh, delicious kill. His  
eyes, two discs burning with pitch black fire, shrewd  
buttons of bloodlust whose darkness surpasses that of  
the blackest night. A sneer of contempt hinges on his  
lips, twitched in the expression of a cynical man  
reduced from a swordsman for a cause to a murderer who  
lives to draw life's blood from its unfortunate victims.   
He reeks of the foul stench of death and decay, the   
odor of blood that once supported life soaking his aura.  
  
So lost in he in his thoughts of what he presumes to be  
a victory for self that he does not hear the approaching  
footsteps... and the last thing he recalls is the sound   
of wood against skull, followed by the thud of a body   
collapsing to the grass. A body that is not of a victim,  
a body which is his own.   
  
  
  
{Sensei, why do you keep me from the lamp?}  
  
{You needn't ask such questions. I do it because it is for  
your own good.}  
  
{It is the fire, is it not, Sensei? I don't understand how  
something so beautiful can be so dangerous.}  
  
{Better that you remain ignorant than having to experience  
it firsthand.}  
  
Curious black eyes catch the glint of the tiny golden flame  
that burns within the glass lamp. It flickers shakily,   
dancing like a tiny scarlet leaf, its direction guided by  
the hand of the gentle wind. The child is entranced, drawn  
and enchanted by that which causes light even in the grasp  
of the most abounding dark.   
  
A hand reaches out...   
  
... and pushes the lamp. The sound of shattering glass and   
a rapidly spreading fire pierces the stillness of the evening.  
  
  
  
The next thing he is aware of is the light. He blinks, a   
strange, searing ache throbbing throughout his entire body.  
Has he awakened to daylight... but the light he sees is not  
that of the gently smiling sun. Instead, it is the mocking   
glare of treacherous flames, dancing gleefully all over his  
body, tasting him at first, then delving deeper. He lets   
out an astonished cry as the pain registers, begs the night  
for mercy as he thrashes about, the throes of anguish   
plaguing his suffering body. Agony sings through the blood  
that streams out of every wound, making him scream in   
tortured despair. As the fire slowly, cruelly, mercilessly  
begins to consume him, in those seconds he is no longer   
the feared Shadow Hitokiri... just another suffering man.  
  
Then the sound of familiar voices pricks up his ears, and  
bitter fury builds up inside him, hotter than the hellish   
fire that fights to burn him into ashes of forgotten   
existence. Smoldering with hatred, simmering with a   
sudden, delicious desire for vengeance and unequaled   
strength, he rises to his feet and shakes his fists at  
the waning moon. So he stands, fueled by his desperation  
and desire, the visage of an incarcerated soul trapped   
in a shell of blue and scarlet fire, crying out for   
the divine imperative that is revenge.   
  
Disheartened by a will that surpasses even the most intense,  
torrid onslaughts, the flames slowly begin to die.   
  
  
  
The child watches, horrified, as the incarnadine flames   
scatter throughout the tent, frightening him with their  
ferocious snarls and prickly hot fingers. He can only   
stare helplessly as they tear at the fabric of the tent  
walls, his eyes watering as trains of smoke fill his   
lungs. His knees wobble, threatening to give way, as  
he chokes desperately, his chest tightening as he slowly  
becomes light-headed. The colors of the world around him  
merge into undecipherable shapes and figures, swirling   
into a mass of fading dots...   
  
He faints as two strong arms scoop him up and rush him   
out of the smoking inferno.   
  
  
  
Once again, he seethes as he feels the flames leap   
back to life, encircling him and the beautiful dead   
angel in his arms in a ring of murderous fire. His  
body temperature has careened out of control,   
bursting with heat and incredible intensity that soon  
catches fire. Clouds of smoke engulf him and his dead  
lover, and this time, he knows that the will to survive  
will not triumph against the odds, that no strong arms  
will pull him out of the flames' wrath and dip his  
scorching body into a lake of ice cold water. He   
lets out a bloodcurdling scream of outrage and defeat,  
which suspends in the air in a terrifying echo as the  
place starts crumbling down.   
  
He presses his lover to his breast, knowing he will join  
her soon. He shuts his eyes as the deadly flames begin   
their cruel teasing, suppresses an agonized cry as it   
inflicts pain greater than his previous tangle with death.  
The smoke suffocates him in its smothering embrace, the  
great golden blaze devours him ravenously, biting into  
his flesh and chewing contemptuously, then sipping the   
blood like wine as it pours out of his torn skin. He  
moans softly, waiting for death, waiting for the shadow  
of darkness to claim him forever... *anything* would be  
better than the curse of an eternal agony in hellfire  
that seems to have hung over him all his life.   
  
He can no longer hold back a screech of bare and naked  
anguish as the flames nip at his exposed heart, and he   
throws back his head in submission, unable to bear the  
torment of living. The last that is seen of him is his  
mouth, frozen in absolute horror and powerlessness.   
  
And once again, in those dying moments, he is no longer  
the madman who attempted to take over Japan, but a   
suffering man slowly being put to rest. The blanket of  
fire thins, until all it leaves is darkness... and a   
bundle of lonely ashes that eventually dissipate into  
the wind.   
  
OWARI  
04/01/00  
  
Happy April Fool's Day, minna! ^-^ So, didja like it?  
Didja understand it?   
  
1. First of all, arigatou to Selene Chou, who challenged me  
into writing this fic. I had quite a few more ideas, mind  
you, but this one was what grabbed me the most, and when  
the title "Incinerator" struck, I guess this turned up.  
Happy now, Selene-chan? ^.~ I gotta admit, there weren't  
too many serious Shishio fics around (though I enjoyed  
reading the funny ones a LOT) and this guy's such an   
interesting, intriguing character, so I accepted right   
away when Selene-chan issued the challenge.   
  
2. The parts concerning the oh-so-mysterious 'child', well,  
these were references to Shishio's past (or a possible   
theory of what could have been), that I thought I could  
link to the present. I don't remember having read any fics  
that really dealt with this guy's past, so I decided to  
incorporate some elements of it into this little story   
of mine. I didn't like to think of him as a 'monster',  
exactly, since all he really wanted was vengeance and   
change (well, who *doesn't?*), so I decided to shed some  
light on his 'human' side -- thus, the 'helpless, innocent,  
ignorant' child scenes. Let's just say Shishio's one guy  
with a *reaaaaallly* long history with fire.   
  
3. ~~So he stands, fueled by his desperation  
and desire, the visage of an incarcerated soul trapped   
in a shell of blue and scarlet fire, crying out for   
the divine imperative that is revenge.~~   
  
I got the idea for 'the divine imperative that is revenge'  
from a movie I stumbled upon through countless hours of   
channel surfing. The guy (a really gorgeous hunk, BTW)   
said, "Revenge -- it's a moral imperative", and I fell in  
love with that line so I decided to modify it for this fic.  
Now since Shishio doesn't seem to care about morals and  
stuff like that, and since it seems he's more concerned   
with his own twisted concept of himself as a Deity or  
something, I decided to use 'divine imperative' instead.  
I didn't catch the title of the movie, though. _  
  
Take care, minna, and God bless! 


End file.
